(song:"True Colors" - Marina and the Diamonds )

It was six years ago. . .

     "Mom, Dad! Have you seen my red jacket anywhere? I checked the dryer and it's not in there." My brother Edward was calling from the hallway as he made his way to the front door to check the mail.

     I sat with my father at the dining table eating a bowl of cereal while my mother worked to braid my hair into two perfect pig-tails. I really liked when she'd do my hair. I didn't know why I couldn't do my own braids as lovely as she could. I'd tried on all my dolls in the past with no success.

     "Check your father's side of the closet, I think I put it in there by mistake. You know that you both wear the same size, sometimes I get confused about who wears what," my mother called to Edward.

     My father was on his laptop and barely paid enough attention to even get his cup of coffee to his lips with success.

     "Honey, you're going to spill your coffee if you don't stop trying to send emails while you type." My mother warned gently.

     My father lifted his gaze up to deliver my mother a distracted smile, "If I don't send these emails then we aren't going to have our own auto mechanic store. I'm just waiting for my AA sponsor, to finish his part."

     I stuffed a piece of toast into my mouth and played with my mother's phone. "When I get older can I run Dad's shop?" I asked innocently.

     "Let's hope not Jenny. Part of the reason your daddy is doing this is so you can do something else in life," my father informed me.

     Edward slowly walked towards the table looking pale as a ghost with a single letter between his fingers. "Mom, Dad, look. It's here, my letter from Rice University. . ." His voice sounded shaky and dry.

     My mother abandoned her effort to tame my hair. Instead, her hands covered her mouth with just as much fear and anticipation as my brother.

     "Go ahead and open it!" She said at first, but then after a split second of thought she reached a hand out to touch Edward's wrist. "But sweetie, just so you know, no matter what that envelop says, it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't matter where you go to college, what matters is the choices you make in life following college."

     I couldn't fully understand why it was such a big deal, but I was only eleven-years-old.

     I pretended like I understood the weight the envelop carried though. I wanted so badly to seem older than I was. I'd always lived in the shadow of my perfect brother who always succeeded in everything and was loved by everyone.

     I couldn't wait for him to go off to college so finally people could focus on me and not him.

     Edward carefully opened the envelop and before he read the words on the pages, he held it against his chest and took a deep breath. "Right. It doesn't mean anything, if they don't want me there's still Albany and there's always state."

     He lifted the letter and skimmed it with his eyes. We waited with quiet impatience. Why didn't he just read it out loud and get the suspense over with already?

     The more his eyes skimmed the letter his face seemed to only darken, and his features turned from nervous to drawn down. "Oh." He said darkly.

     "It's okay sweetie, remember there's still Albany!" My mother quickly worked to cheer him.

     "I don't think so mom—because I'm going to RICE UNIVERSITY!" He shouted out while tossing the acceptance letter in the air.

     My mother screamed with delight and threw her arms around Edward. My father tried to down-play his excitement with a simple pat against my brother's back. They showered him with praise and congratulations. I'd never seen Edward or my parents happier or more proud than in that moment.

     It'd be a challenge to pay for Edward to go to Rice, but mom and dad would always just tell him that they'd figure something out. This was about his whole life, a young life with promise.

     I felt totally invisible in the room. I still only had one of my braids finished, the other was completely forgotten.

     No one cared that I had some of the highest scores in my grade. Everything I did seemed to feel like it wasn't as good as what my brother accomplished so I decided that I'd just stop trying to be flawless like him. It made me hate people that tried to be perfect, like Edward.

     The congratulations stopped when my mother checked her phone and realized the time.

     "I totally forgot the time, we need to get you all to school. Honey, can you take the kids?"

     My dad usually took us to school and we preferred him to. He could take the longer route. My mom had to get to work before my father so she would take the faster route.

     "Not today, I have to meet with Steve to sign on the lease for the shop," my father answered without looking up from his screen.

     My mom tried to be understanding with my father's business. His success meant she would be able leave her job as a waitress at the local Diner and work reception in the shop. "Fine then, I guess you two are riding with me. We better hurry, my shift starts soon."

     "But mom didn't finish my hair and I still haven't even drank my strawberry milk." I complained.

     Edward tugged at one of my pigtails. "Take it in the car, you baby. Don't make mom get in trouble with work."

     "Shut up, I was talking to mom, not you." I reached out my hands to swat his away from me.

     "Play nice you two, your brother is going to be leaving soon and you'll feel really sad you fought with him." My mother said this every day since my brother started his senior year.

     We piled into the car. As my mother pulled out of our driveway and made her way to the busier highway, a rare occurrence took place in Las Vegas—rain.

     Edward kept talking about college and grown-up matters. He really wasn't a kid anymore. I felt so excluded.

     "Mom! Mom! I have something to say too." I said with desperation.

     "I'm talking right now, Jenny. You can tell mom after school," Edward quickly said.

     "No! You've talked to mom all morning, I want to talk to her." I felt selfish, I couldn't help it.

     "Don't fight you two!" My mother scolded the both of us rapidly. She was frantic about getting to work on time.

     "Whatever you have to say isn't important, it's just stupid baby stuff. Nothing important ever happens to an eleven-year-old. My stuff is important." Edward mocked me.

     "Shut up!"

     "You shut up!"

     In Las Vegas during the miraculous moments rain would appear, on average about 1-to-4 inches of rain would fall. For most places that's a pitiful amount of rain, but for this part of Nevada, four inches of rain could soften up eleven-months worth of dried oil and filth. This created a nice, slick layer against the asphalt.

     Most Vegas residents scrambled like ants in water during rain. They fumbled to turn on their windshield wipers and see that the rubber had warped from heat and lack of use, rendering them totally useless.

     These two things made it difficult enough for my mother to maneuver through traffic, but coupled with two fighting siblings she did a juggling act.

     I was only eleven though, and as mature as I tried to be I couldn't hold it back anymore. I was so tired of my brother making me feel like I wasn't as perfect as he was.

     I hurled out the worst insult I could think of at him. "Go die!"

     And to make my point even stronger I threw my strawberry milk at him.

     My milk splattered across the inside of the windshield, masking my mother's ability to see even worse than it had already suffered. Her failed wipers only managed to spread dust.

     What my mother wasn't aware of, was the difficulties of the large vehicle ahead. The layer of water-slick oil caused the wide-load-semi to squeal towards us and my mother, unable to see, turned right towards it.

     Three minutes. . .

     My life changed forever in the span of three minutes.

     They survived the accident.

     That's what the paramedics had said.

     They were not killed instantly.

     They died within three minutes during transport to the hospital in the back of the ambulance. Too much blood loss and too severe injuries sustained.

     Since I sat in the backseat and not the front I was spared most of the impact. Shards of glass and metal had scarred and punctured my body, leaving superficial scars on my skin that I'd cover with symbolic tattoos later in life.

     Everyone had said it was a miracle and I should have felt so grateful to be alive.

     I laid in a hospital bed staring at a ceiling unable to think, move or speak as my father tearfully tried to explain to me that it'd just be him and me.

     The insurance company found my mother at fault of the accident and my father was forced to come up with the money to compensate those affected by it.

     That was the end of the auto shop.

     After the funeral I told my father the truth about the accident, that I'd caused it and how. He never looked at me the same way again.

     From that day forward, he stopped attending  his AA meetings.